Gerritsen No Goose. Robb Wins.

Seems like I'm breaking in the New Year catching up on J. D. Robb's In Death series–and not quite one of those juicy 400+ paged books I promised myself to start.  As previously mentioned, I stopped reading the series for two years before I finally caught up with where I left of in Delusion in Death.  Reading this series feels like an old pair of shoes and a wine-tasting party (or what I would believe) with old friends.  The series remains highly familiar, highly uneventful, and highly formulaic.  Yet, it feels like home and so much more.  

I happened across these two books at my local Books-A-Million.  The only reason I was there was because Barnes & Nobles didn't have Tess Gerritsen's latest, Die Again, on sale.  Sorry, but I'm not paying $27 for a book.  Nope.  I thought Books-A-Million would fair better, but no luck.  Except with J. D. Robb.  Calculated in Death follows immediately behind Delusion.  And after Calculated comes Thankless in Death.  I found them on bargain, therefore, I equivalate this to a JACKPOT.  As well as a comfortable way to get my year started.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

FAVORITE 10 BOOKS OF 2014

Yep, the year is done!  2014 became a fun, conflicting, hard, and challenging one.  I wish I could say where all the areas of my personal growth lie, but I can't.  I just know that it's there, fed by the hunger for change and a better life.  But one thing I can say that this year has taught me is that you can't give up nor count yourself out.  Nevertheless, I'm trusting that a lot of that troubling energy of 2014 is moving out of the way for some amazing opportunities–especially considering I'm entering my 3rd year here.  And I think I've worked my ass off and built enough momentum to move into the next stage.  Nonetheless, all that talk can wait.  Before the year is completely done, I have to share ten of my favorite reads of 2014.  They're not in any particular rank; they're chronological placed according to when I read them.  Oh, I forgot to mention that according to Goodreads I managed to read 70 books this year.  As for my Goodreads reading challenge, I initially set out to read 60 books.  However, I pushed it up to 65 during a month when I wasn't ready consistently and filled my reading time with short stories and graphic novels.  But that's neither here nor there.  On to the list!

1.  Mao by Jung Chang

2.  Year of the Demon by Steve Bein

3.  A Thousand Lives by Julia Scheeres

4.  Innocent Blood by P. D. James

5.  Concourse by S. J. Rozan

6.  The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson

7.  Killing Orders by Sara Paretsky

8.  Hotel Paradise by Martha Grimes

9.  So Far From God by Ana Castillo

10.  The Seventh Sinner by Elizabeth Peters  

I hope you guys had a great reading year, alongside a Happy New Year.  Actually, I trust that it's all good.  I want to thank anyone who has been sharing my posts, commenting and following along here and/or on my Youtube channel (which I'll be back to updating in January).  Share your favorite books from 2014 in the comments below!  And I'll see you next year.  

Banana's Kitchen!

Banana Yoshimoto’s Kitchen combines two novellas into one thematic collection. The first, and decidedly best and lengthy one, features the story of a Japanese woman named Mikage Sakurai. Orphaned as a child, Mikage was raised by her grandparents in Tokyo. And per her story‘s opening, her grandmother, the last living relative in her family, has passed and left Mikage alone in the apartment they shared. It’s a bit suffocating to Mikage, living in the loneliness and silence. Nonetheless, she’s always found comfort in kitchens. And not just cooking in kitchens; sleeping on a futon next to a humming refrigerator consoles her just nicely.  Whether she's enduring the struggles provided by life or death, her affinity for kitchens has always been true.  (Filthy or clean, it doesn't matter to her.)  Naturally, this is the first place Mikage feels drawn to after her grandmother’s death.  So without question kitchens are the motif behind her story.

With a life surrounded by the dying of her loved ones, Mikage is the last of the Sakurai family and has no one to turn to. Thankfully, a guy named Yuichi, who works in a flower shop that Mikage’s grandmother frequented, comes to Mikage's “rescue.” With his love of the deceased grandmother spilling over, Yuichi invites Mikage to live with him and his transvestite (to be clear, his father dresses as a woman) mother to help Mikage grieve as well as settle her grandmother’s estate. Needless to say, a bond is formed between Mikage and Yuichi. A bond established by their combined link to death, sorrow and hope.

Now, the second story in Kitchen is called “Moonlight Shadow.” Apparently, it’s Yoshimoto’s first published piece, and is an obvious slant toward the aforementioned story. In “Moonlight Shadow” a young woman name Satsuki is mourning the death of her boyfriend. She grieves through jogging in the early hours of the day, where she crosses a white bridge upon her route. One day Satsuki runs into a woman at this bridge, and it‘s here that the two share a thermos of tea. It appears to be a random encounter, until the woman proceeds to connect with Satsuki on an incorporeal level.

(This next half of the post refers mainly to the title story and not the short, "Moonlight Shadow.")

I feel so conflicted with this, but I was a little apathetic about Kitchen the first few thirty-or-so pages into it. And while I did want a little more "meat," that impassive feeling wasn't because of Yoshimoto’s sort of inconspicuous storytelling. Nevertheless, I want to get to the really, really good stuff first.  

As mentioned, the stories in Kitchen take a steep, subjective step into how some of us approach death, loneliness, sorrow and the eventual necessity to heal. And I've marked some of my favorite passages to illustrate such.

"No matter what, I want to continue living with the awareness that I will die.  Without that, I am not alive.  That is what makes the life I have now possible.  Inching one's way along a steep cliff in the dark: on reaching the highway, one breathes a sigh of relief.  Just when one can't take any more, one sees the moonlight.  Beauty that seems to infuse itself into the heart: I know about that."

And...

"'We've been very lonely, but we had it easy.  Because death is so heavy–we, too young to know about it, couldn't handle it.  After this you and I may end up seeing nothing but suffering, difficulty, and ugliness, but if only you'll agree to it, I want for us to go on to more difficult places, happier places, whatever comes, together.  I want you to make the decision after you're completely better, so take your time thinking about it.  In the meantime, though, don't disappear on me.'"

Good stuff, right?  Well, as we all know, translations are never 100%, so maybe that initial apathetic feeling had to do with the book's translation from Japanese to English.  However, I think I can bottom line those feelings to Kitchen's often defunct subordinate and insubordinate clauses, comma splices, complex sentences, and moments of awkwardly expressed dialogue. Give or take a few. Eventually, I got the hang of it all.  Or I failed to notice or revisit moments of hiccupping narrative to reconnect a few of those uncertain subject-verb agreements.  Not trying to sound like a grammar police because I'm a criminal myself.  But when I notice a missing beat, I notice it.  Technical or otherwise.

Maybe it’s the change of cadence from poetic Japanese prose to English. I honestly don't know. I can only say that for a few pages, I had to establish the rhythm and beat of the book. And thankfully I did because the further the story moved, the further I was moved. And when it concluded, I looked up to the ceiling telling myself: “Damn, that was a good story.”  Of course with the book pinned against my heart for dramatic flare.  Seriously, though.  Once I was there with Kitchen, I was there.  We're talking tense and scared for the outcome; hopeful and unsure.

I'll leave it at that because I think I've muddled what I was trying to say.  Otherwise, we'll be here all day analyzing this book.  Kitchen is worth your attention even if you may also find yourself trying to warm up to the story and characters, delivered by the sometimes hiccupy narrative.

Flavia's Sweetness

"It is the summer of 1950–and at the once-grand mansion of Buckshaw, young Flavia de Luce, an aspiring chemist with a passion for poison, is intrigued by a series of inexplicable events: A dead bird is found on the doorstep, a postage stamp bizarrely pinned to its beak.  Then, hours later, Flavia finds a man lying in the cucumber patch and watches him as he takes his dying breath.  For Flavia, who is both appalled and delighted, life begins in earnest when murder comes to Buckshaw.  'I wish I could say I was afraid, but I wasn't.  Quite the contrary.  This was by far the most interesting thing that had ever happened to me in my entire life.'"

~The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie

The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie was just as sweet as its title.  Sliding from Martha Grimes’ twelve-year-old sleuth, Emma Graham, and into Alan Bradley’s similarly close-aged sleuth, Flavia de Luce, proved successful.  The tartness and twang the two series share is undeniable, albeit explored through protagonists who are a year and decade apart as well as from different countries.  Nevertheless, hear me when I say that Flavia is just as precious, intuitive, resourceful, and smart-alecky as Grimes' Emma. I will say that Emma’s mouth is a lot slicker than Flavia, though. Flavia has her moments when she "reads" an adult or peer down, but she’s not as creatively shady as Emma.  That's probably because Emma's pessimistic and general disregard for any adult who sees her only as a child is a lot stronger.  Whereas Flavia uses an adult's perspective of her to become virtually "invisible" as she snoops.  Seriously, the girl walked straight through the police station at one point and, upon getting caught, bubbled up tears used to ensure her way forward.  Emma would've pitched a fit, but eventually gain the same results. 


Nonetheless, let’s not split hairs here. The truth is that both ladies know how to carry a pleasurable, humorous and intriguing narrative. And respectively speaking, I can't count the number of times I burst out laughing while reading The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie. It was simply hilarious watching the curious and outspoken Flavia attempt to solve her given murder mystery; whether she’s questioning a suspect, giving the police crap, or pedaling her bicycle all across the English village she lives in.  And she's not always 100%, but I pique in those tiny moments where she considers something I may have looked over.  An example as simple as her pulling her bike into a shed, so that she can rifle through old newspapers unbothered, is one considerable moment.  Or her hanging back behind a tree to witness an argument, and then walking forward as if casual and unawares (with a high-pitch greeting) is another.  Or covering her ass on the spot with a shameless lie when her presence comes into question.  So I appreciated her thoughtfulness and forward thinking.

Oh, and I have to mention how passionate she is about chemistry and uses her knowledge of it throughout the book. However, on the flip-side, she’s not exactly passionate and mindful of her own family.  While her two older sisters often give her hell, Flavia does have to look after them as well as her father.  (Her mother, Harriett, passed when Flavia was too young to remember her.)  Nonetheless, there were sweet moments where Flavia sort of appointed herself guardian of her father, who naturally found himself arrested as a suspect while the murder took place on his property.  And even toward the end, it was Flavia's oldest sister that came to her rescue.  I've kind of grown to like the de Luces, so I'm interested in seeing their family grow and develop as a sort of B-hook to the series.  Because essentially there's a lot of interesting points made in this area.

I can say that I’m hooked to this series now, and can't wait to start on the next book. Except for a few questionable investigative moments–like Flavia using her braces to pick a lock–The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie was a wonderful ride.  It wasn't the most guttural or complicated of mysteries, and sometimes the backstory related to the victim got in the way of watching Flavia flourish on paper.  Nonetheless, all that rounded out as a necessity to the mystery and narrative.  Otherwise, you may find yourself caring less about Flavia's troubles and fine detection.

FAVORITE MOMENTS WITH FLAVIA

********************

Just like with Emma, I have to capture and quote my favorite moments with Flavia.  These are the times I cracked up the most.

"It was dark inside the little bedroom, but there was light enough to see the form lying on the bed; to see the white face staring back at me, its mouth gaping open in a horrid 'O.'

'Flavia!' Miss Cool said, scrambling to her feet, her words muffled by the window glass.  'What on earth–?'

She snatched her false teeth from a tumbler and rammed them into her mouth, then vanished for a moment, and as I leaped to the ground I heard the sound of the bolt being shot back.  The door opened inwards to reveal her standing there–like a trapped badger–in a housedress, her hand clutching and opening in nervous spasms at her throat.

'What on earth...?' she repeated.  'What's the matter?'

'The front door's locked,' I said.  'I couldn't get in.'"

********************

"One day when I found her sobbing on the bench with her head on the closed piano lid, I had whispered, 'Give it up, Daff,' and she had flown at me like a fighting cock.

I had even tried encouragement.  Whenever I heard her at the Broadwood, I would drift into the drawing room, lean against the piano, and gaze off into the distance as if her playing hand enchanted me.  Usually she ignored me, but once when I said, 'What a lovely piece that is!  What's it called?' she had almost slammed the lid on my fingers.

'The scale of G major!' she had shrieked, and fled the room.

Buckshaw was not an easy place in which to live."

********************

"The little man's pale blue eyes bulged visibly in their sockets.

'Why, it's only a girl!' he said.

I could have slapped his face.

'Ay, that's her,' said the suntanned one.

'Mr. Ruggles here has reason to believe that you were up in the tower,' the Inspector said, with a nod at the white mustache.

'What if I was?' I said.  'I was just having a look round.'

'The tower's off limits,' Mr. Ruggles said loudly.  'Off limits!  And so it says on the sign.  Can't you read?'

I gave him a graceful shrug."

********************

"'Feely,' I said, turning on her, 'do me a favor:  Pop back into the pit and fetch me my handkerchief–and be sure to bring me what's wrapped up inside it.  Your dress is already filthy, so it won't make much difference.  There's a good girl.'

Feely's jaw dropped about a yard, and I thought for a moment she was going to punch me in the teeth.  Her whole face grew as red as her lips.  And then suddenly she spun on her heel and vanished into the shadows of the Pit Shed."

********************

The Guy Who Almost Faded And Why

I know the filtering and all is wonked out and faded, but I had to make it a little creative and interesting. The reason I post this drawing is because I don't know what to do with it. I've been stuck on it for weeks, slowly progressing until I just… well… stopped. The idea was to give him one of those super big faux fur hoodies, and then I kind of fiddle along and erased everything. I still am keeping that idea, though. Hopefully, I can pull it off. Part of me also wants to open up his face and jaw line, but part of me wants to leave it as it is. I'm not hardcore determined when it comes to proportions and angles.  I'm more into the reasonable, danity and dramatic looks.  Nonetheless, I kind of just draw and let the drawing and coloring come out.  Either I like the results, or I don’t. So I'm led to believe that I have something here, if only I can execute that fur hoodie like I so, so want to express as it regards the current season. 

I just wanted to share my current frustrations. I'm hoping I'll get this guy together soon. He seems like a babe, but not in an overly masculine way.  Then again, none of my drawings would be touted as "masculine".

True to Form Distractions

So yeah.  Playing the video game The Evil Within does absolutely nothing regarding my progress of the drawing.  There's no nutshell way to put this game other than how it's the story of a police officer finding himself in this crazy, sadistic world filled with zombies and chainsaw men.  One of the founding creators of the Resident Evil series is behind The Evil Within–should that be a blip to my nutshell explanation of this game.  I originally pulled the game out of a Redbox in town, curious by the reviews and ready for a little hands-on experience.  That experience lead to a full purchase.  This game is stressful and sick.  Just like I like my survival horror.  It would be even better if I could play the female character.  Y'all know how I roll.  (A woman surviving with a gun is like my expressionist candy.)

Oh, hell.  The other truth is that I also binge watching The Dead Files on Netflix and Amazon Instant Video–which doesn't help my drawing progress either.  It's funny because I can't watch the show as it airs, but watching it stream is like an obsession.  I think the difference has to do with commercials.  Commercials break up the tension, pace and storytelling elements of TV shows (even ones such as this).  It also messes with my touch of ADD.  So the second a commercial comes on, I do something else and have to remind myself to turn back to the screen and focus.  Anyway, while I do think its a bit exaggerated, I do enjoy watch The Dead Files before I go to bed.  Yes, at night.  With the lights off.  Back-to-back spooky episodes.  Like a pro.

As jovial and colorful as I am, I'm somewhat into the macabre.  As you can see.  I hope before the end of the year the drawing is complete, though.

Take care and stay tuned! 

Die For Love

Oh the fun you'll have with Jacqueline Kirby. I just concluded her third adventure in Die for Love with continued love in my heart [snicker]. In Die for Love Jacqueline damn near spontaneously decides she’s tired of the Nebraska scene and jets off to New York to attend an annual Historical Romance Writers of the World convention. She’s bored, so it only seems reasonable she packs up and leaves. Nonetheless, the convention holds a strange bunch, besides the many adoring romance readers fawning over the panels filled with prodigious romance writers. No, see the fans are only half of what makes this convention crazy.  There’s the squatty and militant super agent–and corner-holder of the romance market–Hattie. Her prize possession is a top-selling romance writer named Valerie Valentine; and Valerie may be knock-dead gorgeous, but she’s also docile and icy. Next to her is her ever more energetic and forceful business partner (of sorts) named Max. Twirl around to the left and you have an old friend of Jacqueline’s named Jean. Jean is in academia, but disguises herself to save the face of her credentials. She doesn't want to risk losing tenure because of the criticism involved with writing romance novels–one criticism in particularly focused on rape. Then there’s Victor, one of few male romance writers. He cajoles with another writer named Sue.  Sue's just starting out in the game, and inadvertently becomes Jacqueline's hotel roomie. A few others litter the plot, but you get the point: everybody has a story as well as a motive to the upcoming killings.

Oh, but wait! There are those who are trying to expose and defame the romance field and its authors. One being a big, brass columnist named Dubretta; the other, Betsy, is an activist against the masculinist lean found in the romance genre.

Then there’s the hyper-fanatic willing to do anything for Valerie Valentine, including assault and robbery. She’s a rich kid with a tempered addiction to pills. Her name is Laurie.

Jealousy, pride, lust, long secrets, and greed are only a few methods of categorizing this large cast and their motives regarding one another.

Nevertheless, out of the many individuals named, two of them don't make it out of the convention alive. Jacqueline immediately employs her investigative hat (as well as her bottom-less, oversize handbag) to solve the crime. And, in between doing so, writes a romance book herself.


Somewhere toward the middle I found Die for Love a labor to get through.  It all was worth it just for Jacqueline, who was still present and oneself a lot more than in the past two books. I’m not sure where the tedium came through, though. The mystery aspect left me questioning, but a few general guesses had me close to home. Even so, the real exhibit in Die for Love is Elizabeth Peters’ view of the romance genre–or a view funneled through her protagonist.  

There's an outer dialogue bubbling out of Die for Love.  You may catch it through the eccentric cast (which isn't so unusual when you review the theme and cast of the past two books), or the desperate romance-reading fanatics.  This next passage is probably a sum up of the conversation.  Once I read it I immediately jumped to whether or not this is still present in the romance genre of today–as opposed to the 80s when this book was published.  Then I thought about a few authors–particularly those in the urban fantasy genre–and I realized that it is still present.

"By the time the forum ended, her [Jacqueline] brain was teeming with ideas and what an uneasy feeling that Betsy and the Woofasses might be right after all.  Several editors had warned that their heroines must be "liberated," independent women, proud of their own sensuality.  So far, so good; Jacquline had no quarrel with that.  But the same editors had warned against promiscuity.  Was it more liberated to be overpowered against one's will than to seek amorous adventures (the phrase had been used by one of the more old-fashioned editors) for the sheer fun of it?  The word 'love' kept cropping up.  The heroines were all monogamous, in intent if not in actuality, and the happy ending consisted of capturing the hero and making him monogamous too.  the books were anti-feminist, and anti-female, not only because of their prurient interest in rape but because they voiced the tired old moral view (invented and enthusiastically supported by most men) that a woman's only legitimate goal in life was to devote all her time, energy, and sexual abilities to one man.  So far as Jacqueline could see, the only difference between the new romances and the old love stories was that 'love' had replaced marriage as a prerequisite for sex."

I really had to think on that.  I don't read romance, but it did stir some thoughts as to why I don't.  And really it boils down to how I dislike women characters even mildly submissive and considerate to the man's point first.  From a personal angle, I look at love and relationships as companionships first.  Or a team.  So what do you think the passage?  Is it true?